Back to the beginning

Sermon about Mark 16:1-8

Christ is Risen!

Christ is Risen indeed!

An early morning, heavy hearts and slow feet. Women making their way towards an immovable rock. 

Their life as it used to be had just been destroyed a few days ago. When Jesus was captured, put through a speedy trial, and crucified. Within hours everything had changed for them. Not just the present, but most importantly the future. No shared meals with large groups of friends anymore. No travels to proclaim the Good News together with Jesus. No healing the sick and feeding the hungry anymore, because who would put themselves in danger after the lynching of Jesus? While the world pretended that everything was just alright, the women felt distanced from everyone apart from their small bubble of support and trust and shared pain.

There was no future anymore. Just a graveside to attend to. At least they got that. A place for their grief. A place to remember, to cry, to talk to the one they miss so much. A sacred space.

But the women arrive at the tomb only to find out that the body and the story they thought it held, could not be contained. A stranger tells them things they cannot comprehend. 

“Do not be alarmed.” The women tremble in disbelief. Who is this young man and what on earth is he talking about? Telling them to stay calm after all what happened? And now, even the corpse of Jesus is gone. Of course, they are alarmed. It’s literally the only appropriate reaction in that moment. Side note: Women don’t faint upon bad news in real life. Women carry on. The fainting is just for movies and men to jump into the picture.

The man continues: “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.” Right, so at least he did his homework and knows what happened. Carry on, young man. The women are listening now.

He says: “He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him.” Now, what’s that supposed to mean? He is not here, that the women see. That’s about the only obvious thing in this whole situation. And yes, they know where they laid him. They are not out of their minds. Just sad and tired and hopeless. Not crazy. They listen to the sound of the words. Try to make sense of them. “He has been raised.” The words echo in their hearts. They look for memories, for experiences that match what they just heard. Right, Jesus had raised people from the dead before. And he had told them many times that that would happen to him as well. But like that? Like leaving a tomb? 

At the cross they had waited for the miracle to happen. For Jesus to walk off the cross. To show the world who he really was. That would be good publicity for the cause. And he missed that opportunity. Sneaking out of a tomb, unseen by anyone trustworthy, just doesn’t make sense. It raises more questions and really doesn’t make the point very clear. 

Like nothing has been making sense since that time he got arrested. When the world stopped. When plans got canceled. When all of Jesus’ friends went on lockdown in their homes. Forever, they thought. For 3 days it was. 

The young man isn’t done yet, though. “But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”

Suddenly, the women start running. Not behind Peter and the others. Just away from this strange place that was supposed to give them a purpose and space for their broken hopes.  They had lost everything but at least they knew where to go and what to do. They had a purpose. To tend to the corpse of Christ. And now, it was gone. Stolen? Taken away? Risen? Who knows?

While this is the very first time in the Gospel of Mark that Jesus’ friends are explicitly asked to tell people about him, this time they are terrified and speechless. So far, they were always asked to keep the stories to themselves and they told everyone they met. Now, they are called into ministry of the word – and run silently. I guess people don’t like to be told what to do. Not even by God.

And so, the Gospel of Mark ends with the women fleeing the tomb. They flee in shocked silence. The end. What kind of Easter is this?

Easter is a frightening prospect. For the women, the only thing more terrifying than a world with Jesus dead was one in which he was alive.

Hope is much harder to come by. The women did not go to the tomb looking for hope. They were searching for a place to grieve. They wanted to be left alone in despair. The terrifying prospect of Easter is that God called these women to return to the same world that crucified Jesus with a very dangerous gift: hope in the power of God, the unending reservoir of forgiveness and an abundance of love. It would make them seem like fools. Who could believe such a thing?

Easter is an ending without a conclusion. A story without finality. The end returns us back to the beginning. With the risen Christ gone back to Galilee. To the place where it all began according to Mark. Galilee, where Jesus was born, where he was baptized, where he gathered friends, where he healed the sick, fed the hungry, and preached good news. And the risen Christ goes right back where he served before. Like an infinite loop. Easter means it starts all over again. Just, that now, it will be different. A world after lockdown looks different. At least, it should.

Christians, at their best, are the fools who dare believe in God’s power to call dead things to life. We become a source of hope that did not originate in ourselves.

To listen to the plans of some, after the pandemic we are returning to a world of parties and rejoicing. This is true. Parties have their place. Potlucks and hugs have their place. But we are also returning to a world of hatred, cruelty, division and a thirst for power that was never quarantined. It might be more visible than ever to us.

According to Mark, resurrection means to go back to where the work began and where it still has to be done.

As we leave the tombs of quarantine, a return to normal would be a disaster unless we recognize that we are going back to a world desperately in need of healing. For us Christians, the source of that healing is an empty tomb in Jerusalem. The work that Jesus left his followers to do includes showing compassion and forgiveness and contending for a just society. It involves the ever-present offer for all to begin again. The weight of this work fills me with a terrifying fear, especially in light of all those who have done great evil in his name. Who is worthy of such a task? Like the women, the scope of it leaves me too often with stunned silence. Because I, too, am afraid to speak up at times. Because not everyone wants to hear about radical love and compassion for all and even fewer want to hear about radical justice for all. But that’s what Easter is about.

Resurrection means that nothing, not even death, will prevent Jesus’ invitation for us and Christ’s work with us. That God isn’t done with us even though we failed, again. That no one’s death can give us an excuse to give in and just run away in terror. Not even God’s death. Not even his resurrections. Because for all we know the women eventually told the others and followed Jesus and met him. And then, they continued his ministry. Because the story of the risen Christ can’t be contained by tombs and walls. Not even by churches. The risen Christ knocked at the doors from inside the walls. He has gone out to meet people where they are, to listen and heal.  

Death busts forth into life. The resurrection is God’s reaching into the world with boundless love to gift us all with new life and a new beginning.

Let’s embody the scope of this good news.

Reaching high up to the sky like you are praising God, like you are surrendering to the wonder.

Christ is Risen. Christ is Risen indeed.

Reaching way out to your sides like you are sharing your love, like you are embracing your neighbor.

Christ is Risen. Christ is Risen indeed.

Reaching far out front of you, like you are being called into the world, called into this very place. In this very moment, to live the good news.

Christ is Risen. Christ is Risen indeed.

Amen.